The First Victim
by Aesculap
Summary: Castiel is stubborn and a bit sick, Sam is clever but very ill, and Dean tries to finish their hunt nevertheless.


_**AN:** written for greeneyes_fan who won me at pledge-a-Thon_

_A bit AU after the events in... oh, I think you'll see ;)_  
_A huge thank-you to **citizencandy** for the beta_

* * *

It was around 4.30 a.m. as the loud bass of Ramble On finally managed to pull Dean out of his sleep. Currently, the brothers were in a nameless town in Arkansas where they had crashed after two days of non stop grave digging. Dean was still beat and wanted to just sleep for a week or two before leaving the bed for more than taking a leak again.

"Dean," he heard Castiel's deep voice cracking through the speaker. "... need ... help ... sease ... ing ... Sam ... how ... come ..."  
"Cas, I didn't get that, the connection's crap. Where are you?" Dean rubbed a hand over his face. He was too tired for this whisper-down-the-lane shit.  
"... llup, Washington. Hurry ... Pestilence ... victims ... Dean."  
"Where, Cas?"  
"Puyallup. ...tel Road ... View. Bring …! "  
"Okay, we'll be there in...," the hunter started calculating their distance. It would take them at least two days. Maybe one and a half if they alternately drove and slept in the car. "Not before Friday morning, sorry. We'll call as soon as we are there."  
"Thank ... hurry."  
Great. He had to wake his brother. And then they both needed coffee. Lots of coffee.

~*~

While Dean drove Sam took a look at the recent events in Puyallup. The town near Seattle was currently stricken with an outbreak of swine flu. It hadn't been bad enough to catch the attention of either Sam or Dean, but if the Angel believed Pestilence was playing havoc there, they were not going to take risks.

~*~

They had just entered Idaho; Dean was tired, his eyes were burning and the street was constantly blurring in front of them when he finally awoke his brother and settled in the passenger seat. Ten more hours. Castiel hadn't called again so he hoped the Angel had everything under control. Of course he didn't know how wrong he was.

~*~

Castiel eyed his phone wearily. It seemed as if Pestilence had managed to infect even technology. It was nearly impossible to get a signal outdoors, much less inside one of the many houses he had to visit to talk to the victims. The Angel was sure Pestilence was here, playing some kind of cruel game. He just didn't know if he himself was already one of the figures on the play board or if it were still exclusively humankind.

Castiel sat down on the bed feeling his bones ache with tiredness. He had not managed to save a single person. Since he had entered town, at least 10 more humans had died one way or another. Castiel felt powerless, useless; fading away more and more. His dwindling grace was slowly growing from just another minor nuisance to a real problem, hindering his progress seriously. Although he still could hurl himself across the planet, it no longer took just a mere thought, now the Angel needed a few minutes to catch his breath again - not only metaphorically. So he had decided to take a room in one of those motels the Winchesters normally used to stay in. Castiel still didn't need to sleep but sustaining his vessel became more and more demanding. Things he used to not even need to think about now took conscious effort. He didn't want to give Pestilence a chance to make his vessel sick because he, for example, had forgotten to keep the body's temperature high enough despite the cold weather. He wasn't sure he had the power left to successfully defend his vessel against one of the dangerous diseases Pestilence normally called forth.

His limbs were heavy with apathy, inside his stomach he felt guilt fiercely churning. With a deep sigh Castiel closed his eyes. He was pathetic.

~*~

The Road Side View Motel was a one story average motel next to the highway. Finding Castiel's room wasn't particularly hard. Dean told the clerk the name of the Angel's sole fake ID which not only got him the right room number but also a strange look from Sam.

"What?" Dean asked as soon as they had left the office.  
"Dude, I can't believe you forged an ID for an Angel and made him use it! What was he posing as?"  
"FBI - everybody needs a few fake names."  
"FBI...," Sam muttered shaking his head.  
"What? He's wearing that damn suit all the time - like a fed! And I even buttoned up his shirt and corrected the tie."  
The younger Winchester snickered softly, but as they had already reached the right door, Dean just shot him a disapproving glance before knocking on the dark wood with the number twelve on it.  
When he knocked a second time half a minute later, he hollered the Angel's name too. Still to no avail. Heavy flakes of white snow started to fall.  
"Cas, dammit! Open the freakin' door!"  
"Perhaps he isn't here?"  
"I told him we'd..."  
Finally the door opened, interrupting Dean.

The older Winchester frowned. If he didn't know his counterpart was an Angel he would have thought he had just chased him out of bed. Castiel was paler than usual, his hair more disheveled, his clothes rumpled and askew enough to make Dean instantly worried. Slightly red trimmed eyes, sharp cheekbones under dark circles.

"Cas, you look like shit. What happened?" the older hunter asked as he entered the warm room. It still smelled clean, as if nobody had been living here for the past few days - which in fact had been the case, Dean reminded himself. Two queens, still perfectly made, caught the hunter's eye and he turned towards his friend with a satisfied smile. "Good idea, we can even stay here."  
Sam pointed to the small table. "Let's sit down and why don't you fill us in, Castiel." His voice was soft, his expression sympathetic – Dean knew his brother too had noticed something was off with the Angel.

Although Castiel sat down with his usual rigid stance, he looked as tired as Dean felt.  
"I haven't managed to rescue a single human. I haven't found Pestilence and I do not even have an idea what he is up to."  
"Okay..." Sam exchanged a quick glance with his brother before he turned to the Angel again. "Why don't you tell us what you found out."

Dean listened to his brother and Castiel going through the facts, the hints and all the things written down in the Book of Revelations about Pestilence. He understood why the Angel was frustrated, hell, even he had been in Cas' shoes more than a few times himself. He knew the feeling when you try your best but people keep slipping through your fingers because you are obviously missing something. Still, it did not explain the utter exhaustion his friend was radiating.  
"So it looks as if all victims have at one point or another been at this hospital. I think we should all take a look at it, perhaps we'll find something Castiel has missed the first time."

~*~

The Good Samaritan Hospital was a building made of red bricks and huge shiny windows. Although it was a modern structure, it had something radiating security, reliability and persistence. As soon as they entered through the main entrance it was just another hospital. White and crème colored walls, gray floors freckled with blue speckles. Pictures of modern art to relax the stiff and cool atmosphere of an impersonal medical center.

Their fake CDC-badges (and one FBI-ID) gained them access to the patient records of the five persons Castiel suspected to be one of the first victims of Pestilence. Two had died due to complications while suffering from swine flu, one had lost the fight against AIDS and another succumbed to cancer. The cause for the fifth death had been Shigellosis. While Castiel waited for the head nurse to make them copies, Sam and Dean swarmed out – to talk to the nurses and doctors that had been treating the victims.

Although the Angel knew watching the sturdy woman putting each page inside the huge and noisy machine that somehow copied the texts, diagrams, and pictures onto another sheet and waiting for it to vomit out the duplicate was boring measured by human standards, he still found himself enthralled. Every time, right after the nurse placed a new sheet on a small window under the lid and closed the machine again, a bright light shone through the tiny gap and a whiff of ozone emerged. Even though Castiel perfectly knew that this was just a machine – and if he truly wanted to know the workings of this photocopier he just would have to concentrate on the knowledge inside the woman's head – he could not shake the image of an Angel sitting inside and scribbling faster than light, producing the replica. Each time the nurse copied another page, Castiel's imagination came up with another Angel sitting cooped up inside the bulky machine. He liked the image of Zachariah pent-up like that best.

~*~

Half an hour later, they headed back to the motel to study the copies of the records. Despite the abundance of coffee and pizza on the table, Dean just felt tired. He hadn't eaten more than half a slice when he decided to call it a day.

"'m sorry, but I'm beat. I think me 'n' Sam need a little shut-eye before we're gonna find the needle in this hay stack."

Sam nodded in agreement. He too hadn't more than touched the food and was obviously running on his last legs.

"There could be people dying while you rest...," Castiel said softly.  
"Cas, we've driven non-stop for the last one and a half days. And we haven't exactly been fresh before that either. We need a good night's rest before we can be of any help." Although Dean understood where his friend was coming from, there was just no other way. He could already feel his eyes dropping and the heavy weight of sleep settling inside his limbs.

"Why don't you pay the hospital another visit," Sam suggested while rubbing his eyes tiredly. The steady throbbing behind his eyes promised to become a full on migraine-like headache very soon. "Make sure there isn't anything else interfering like a reaper gone rogue."

With a sigh, the Angel slowly stood up and vanished. Even the fluttering of his wings sounded exhausted.

~*~

It was still dark outside when something pulled Dean out of his sleep. He blinked a few times, tried to make sense of what his bleary eyes were sending his brain. Sam's bed was empty. The retching sound coming from the small bedroom made Dean not only become wide awake in an instant, but also jump out of bed and hurry towards the disgusting noises, too.  
It was dark inside the tiny chamber the motel called 'bathroom' so without thinking, Dean turned on the light. On the floor, directly in front of the toilet were Sam and Castiel. His brother was leaning heavily on the Angel, halfway over the john, partly on the tan trench coat that had obviously been in the way judging by the fresh stains of vomit. Sam was deathly pale except for his flushed cheeks and shivering slightly, sweat glistering on his forehead. His eyes were squinted shut, a frown on his face as if the bright light was causing him physical pain.

"I do believe your brother is sick."

"No shit, Sherlock...," Dean muttered.

A quick examination revealed that Sam's temperature was way too high and his eyes were a lot more light sensitive than they should have been.

"Swine flu," Dean stated worriedly. "Pestilence must have noticed us nosing around. Crap. Sammy, we're gonna take you to hospital in the morning - unless you are miraculously healed by then." He shot the Angel a short glance.

But Castiel just shook his head lightly. He was not able to help them.

"I will take care of your brother while you sleep, Dean." Castiel arranged Sam in his arms as if his gigantic 6"4 frame wasn't any bigger than a small child's, and carried him easily towards his bed while Dean followed him.

"Cas... I don't think I'm gonna be able to lie down and sleep just like that."

The Angel nodded and the next second was standing right in front of the hunter, touched his forehead and his eyes dropped obediently.

~*~

After Castiel had made sure both Winchesters were lying in their respective beds anew, he heavily sat down in one of the chairs. He too felt exhausted. The small display of angelic powers had left him drained and shaky. He studied his trembling fingers, full of curiosity and annoyance likewise. His knees, too, felt wobbly and weak. Hopefully Sam would stay asleep now because he wasn't sure he would manage to properly support the young man again.

~*~

Sam felt like crap. His nose was constantly running but too blocked to just blow. The pressure inside his head had grown and reached headache level and every time he had to sneeze, his ear drums plopped dangerously. He was sure in the next few minutes he would either shoot snot out of his ears or simply die a miserable death. He just wasn't sure which one would happen first.

But the worst thing was the cough. It was as if his lungs were filled with itching powder - liquid itching powder. And no amount of coughing managed to relieve this maddening feeling for more than a minute or two - and his throat was already sore because of the constant coughing fits.

The moment he had woken up, Castiel had been at his side with a glass of cool water, helping him take a few sips and ease his burning throat a bit. Of course his first thought had been Pestilence. But to he honest he hadn't felt that great even before Castiel's call. Two days of digging up graves in constant drizzle normally tended to play havoc with his immune system.

He absently watched as Castiel rose from his side - the now empty glass in hand - and after two steps towards the small kitchenette, faltered. With a frown, he noticed the Angel gripping the back of a chair for support before continuing in the direction of the sink.

"You okay, Cas?"

"I'm fine."

Great; it looked like the Angel had started picking up Winchester habits right on time. With a groan Sam cautiously let his head fall back onto the pillow and closed his eyes. He hated being sick.

~*~

For the first time in weeks, Dean woke up well rested. The sun was shining through the cracks in the old shutters, illuminating thin stripes of the room; the air smelled used and stale, and from his right side he could hear irregular snores that were loud enough for him to wonder how he had been able to sleep in the first place. Castiel and his mind-whammy. Right.

Rubbing his eyes, he slowly sat up and took a close look at his brother. Sam was lying on his back, mouth open and alternating snoring and coughing. A hand on his forehead confirmed that the fever had risen during the night. Dean was not going to take chances. His belly emitted a low rumble and he decided he'd take Sam to the hospital right after breakfast.

With a yawn, Dean finally stood up, heading for the toilet as he froze mid-step. Castiel was still here. But instead of keeping an eye on the younger hunter as promised, he was sitting on a chair, his arms lying on the kitchen table, head resting on top of them. His closed eyes. Asleep.

Carefully, he touched his friend's forehead - perhaps Pestilence had managed to infect the Angel too? Castiel's skin felt cool, way cooler than a normal human would. He blinked open a weary eye and looked up at the hunter without moving any other part of his body.

"Cas? Did you fall asleep? You're sick too?"

"No. I was just… meditating." The Angel's voice was just a hoarse whisper and added to the picture of pure misery.

"Great. I think I'll whip you both into hospital."

Finally, Castiel sat up and straightened his figure again. "I am not ill, Dean. And I need to stop Pestilence." His voice still sounded a bit more raw than usual but everything else screamed Angel Of The Lord again.

"Okay, your choice, buddy," Dean shrugged apologetically and finally headed for the toilet.

~*~

Although Dean and Castiel helped Sam dress, it was one of his worst experiences. He was too dizzy to do much on his own and every movement made his head explode with pain. Twice, they had to stop for him to vomit into the bucket Dean had cautiously placed next to the bed because of the violent coughing fits. Sam had to agree, it was probably a good idea to get him to a hospital.

The drive itself had been really pleasant if not for the slow rocking motions and the impala's engine softly lulling him to sleep and Castiel poking his shoulder every time Dean told him to wake up again. Sam knew that he had to stay awake be he could not remember why. He was really, really tired and just wanted to take a nap. A few minutes wouldn't harm anybody. Just a short shut-eye…

Again Castiel poked him with his long, hard, unyielding finger - he was sure his shoulder would be all black and blue tomorrow.

…

"Sam, we're here. Come on, just stay awake. Me 'n' Cas will get you inside."

…

"Mister Winston, please open your mouth."

…

Something was being pushed inside his arm - an IV?

…

"We'll be back in a coupla hours, Sammy."

~*~

Leaving Sam alone at the hospital while his brother was so out of it wasn't something Dean enjoyed doing. But they needed to find Pestilence. Actually, he had planned on getting a doctor to take a look at Castiel too. But the Angel had managed to convince him that even if he was already affected by a sickness, he would still be able to have Dean's back. And going against a horseman alone was something the hunter wanted to avoid at all costs.

So they were now sitting in the car again, trying to decide their next steps.  
"So, how do we find Pestilence? I don't think monitoring the hospital will work." Dean looked out of the impala's windows and noticed a few fresh clouds in the sky. Even though the sun was still shining, it was probably going to rain in the evening. He'd had enough rain in the last few days to last him a lifetime.

"We need to find the first victim," Castiel stated, following his friend's gaze up towards the dark clouds. "It will lead us to Pestilence."

"How so?"

Castiel looked back at Dean again as he answered, "There is a ritual. We need the first victim to perform it so we can summon Pestilence."

"And then we kill that son of a bitch."

"No, we will rather banish…," Castiel started but Dean interrupted him angrily.

"Banish?! Cas! That son of a bitch got Sam! I'm not just gonna banish him."

"You cannot touch Pestilence without him affecting you too. No, we will expel him from this plane of existence. But we need the first victim and he or she has to still be alive for it to work."

Dean took a deep breath. Castiel was right. But everything inside of him still screamed for Pestilence's death. "Okay. Sounds like a plan." He shot his friend a fake grin and started the engine.

~*~

When Sam opened his eyes again, it was dark outside. He blinked a few times, disoriented before he finally remembered where he was. Hospital. Dean and Castiel had stuffed him into the car to take him to hospital. Even if he could not remember how he had ended up here in this bed there was no doubt about his location. A tiny, crème colored room with a clock on the wall, a TV next to a small table with two chairs, a cupboard and window. A generic room in a typical clinic.

He coughed a few times, disgusted by the phlegm he freed from his lungs in the process and closed his eyes again. This was no flu. No swine flu, no bird flu nor any other kind of flu. This was a simple case of pneumonia. He'd had enough to know it by now. Judging by the stuff he was hooked up to through his IV, he should be feeling marginally better in a few hours. But right now, he was just tired. Tired, exhausted and for once glad that his brother had taken him to a hospital. After he failed to suppress the need to cough another time, Sam decided he liked the fact that he had a catheter, too. Because standing up and staggering towards the toilet? Sorry, no can do. With a thankful sigh he relaxed and just let it flow.

~*~

"Thank you for your cooperation, ma'am," Dean said with a small smile and stood up from the flowery sofa while extending his hand towards the crinkly old lady.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't be of more help, Mr. Johnson," she said sounding genuinely regretful as they shook hands.

Dean just nodded, trying to keep the act up until they would finally be in the car again. He had noticed Castiel was turning a greenish tinge as the old lady had offered them cookies and lemonade. He had also noticed Castiel being even more quiet than usual. And finally, he hadn't failed to notice the fine layer of sweat on Castiel's forehead. They needed to talk, ASAP.

They had nearly reached the Impala as Dean registered out of the corner of his eye Castiel's steps faltering. With a quick lunge Dean was next to his friend and managed to grab the dizzy Angel's arm before his knees finally buckled and his eyes rolled back into his skull.

"Oh my gosh! The poor boy! Come, come - get him back onto my sofa. He has to lie down a bit!" Dean had nearly forgotten that old woman had been watching them. She sounded genuinely worried and hurried to prepare her couch as soon as Dean had managed to drag his unconscious friend inside.

"Poor dear had looked quite sick while you were talking to me. I hope it's nothing too serious... Oh! The swine flu! You know, dear Nancy, she's the sister of my late husband's bowling friend, when she got sick, it started quite like this. With queasiness and fainting." The old lady nodded enthusiastically while still maintaining an aura of worry.

"I did not faint," Castiel murmured dazed and tried weakly to sit up again, gripping the table for support.

"Of course not, my dear," the woman said soothingly while she battered the Angel's hand away and forced him to lie down again. "Men don't faint. You just got a bit dizzy, that's what men do, when they fall to the floor in a heap and need to be carried by their friend." Dean wasn't sure if she was being honest or sarcastic. The old lady padded the Angel's shoulder and turned to Dean, "Why don't you get your friend a water? Glasses are in the kitchen right over the sink."

After he had made a couple of sips Castiel finally was allowed to sit back up. It was clear that he still felt too dizzy to leave again so the old lady - "Call me Doris, my dear!" - made Dean a few sandwiches and supplied them with the latest gossip. It was quite enlightening, Dean had to admit. Doris knew a lot about what was happening in Puyallup. After the first few minutes he remembered his new phone would be able to record their conversation so he could keep Sam entertained. The old lady didn't object.

It took them more than an hour before Doris decided Castiel looked well enough to make it to their car. Dean had to promise to return for cookies and tea before they'd leave town again.

~*~

Castiel's knees were still a bit weak so he collapsed gracelessly into the passenger seat not even trying to appear unfazed. He knew something had gone badly wrong. Finally Pestilence must have managed to find a weak point and elude his angelic defenses likewise. Castiel closed his eyes and tried to gather his senses, focus them on his bo… the vessel he was currently inhabiting. Although Jimmy's body was very weak, only astir because of the Angel inside still powering up its groggy limbs, there was no trace of sickness. The only other conclusion was that Pestilence had managed to infect himself, his very Grace. This was unheard of - but he was the first nearly-fallen Angel to confront a Horseman.

A strong hand shaking him out of his musings made Castiel open his eyes again and blink a few times dazedly at Dean. His friend was regarding him with one of those expressions he didn't quite understand. Castiel tilted his head a bit to the side and tried to fathom what the human wanted from him.

"Cas…? You with me again?"

"I have never left, Dean."

"Well, you sure spaced out on me. Thought you'd fainted again…"

"I did not faint, Dean!"

"Sure, whatever. Care to tell me what happened back there? Last time you went all comatose you zapped Sam 'n' me back to the seventieth. Since we are still in the here and now there has to be another reason."

"I am afraid, Pestilence managed to affect me at last."

"Affect or infect?"

With a heavy sigh, he admitted, "Infect."

"But you said you'd be able to suppress it and…" Dean gesticulated hazily with his hands obviously trying to tell him something important with those strange movements.

Castiel had no idea what his friend wanted to communicate. But he was to weary to ask. "I… my essence, my Grace has been infected. Not this vessel. I didn't know that was even possible…"

"Ok, we're driving back to the motel and you are going to lie down and sleep. When you're sick, it's always crucial to get enough rest," Dean stated and started the engine.

"I do not require…"

"Bullshit. You are going to sleep. Or I'm gonna get you to hospital too. Geddit?"

"If it makes you feel better…" Castiel resisted the urge to rest his head against the window. Dean was already worried enough, he didn't want to show him how exhausted he really felt. Perhaps sleep wasn't such a bad idea after all.

~*~

A drowning sensation pulled Sam out of his dreamless sleep. He tried to take a deep breath, but something inside his lungs prevented him from getting enough oxygen. There was a gurgling noise every time he gulped in air. He already was on antibiotics, the phlegm inside his lungs should have started to dissolve again! He didn't understand what was happening, this was not like the other cases of pneumonia he had had. With a clumsy hand he tried to reach for the button to call a nurse. He knew he was already hyperventilating but the feeling of choking didn't cease.

~*~

"Yes, Doctor Ryan, I'll be there in about… twenty minutes. Goodbye." Dean closed his phone with a frown. Sam's treating physician had been adamant that they talk as soon as possible. And while he really didn't like the thought of leaving Castiel on his own, he knew there was something seriously wrong with his brother, too.

He glanced at the still sleeping Angel. Hopefully he would be back before his friend woke up again. And to be on the safe side he decided to leave a note on the nightstand. After all, how long could a talk with a doctor last?

Well, it could last pretty long. But that was the least of Dean's problems. As soon as he saw the mildly sympathetic frown on the doctor's face, he knew there were no good news for Sam ahead. 'Acute interstitial pneumonia' - whatever that meant - and 'idiopathic and acute respiratory distress syndrome' were just a few of the terms he threw in Dean's direction. Simply put there was some kind of fluid in the air sacs in Sam's lung hindering him in getting enough oxygen.

Dean didn't know which part he hated more. That probably in just a few days Sam would need mechanical ventilation or that there was currently no cure and a mortality rate of more than 70% in the first 6 months. He took a deep breath (he still could) and tried to suppress the panic. They just needed to find Pestilence. As soon as Pestilence was banished Sam would be well again. They now simply had a time limit.

~*~

Although Sam was tempted to research what the doctors had told him he was suffering from, there was no way he could. He neither had an internet connection nor felt he fit enough to read a couple of books from the hospital library. No, he was just too tired for that. Thankfully Dean had brought him his iPad with an hour-long recording he had made the previous day. Some old lady's gossip. Perhaps he could learn anything his brother had missed. While resting his eyes. Yes, that sounded great. Doing research and recuperating.

~*~

They had skipped lunch. With Castiel not needing to feed his vessel and the new time limit, Dean did not want to waste an entire hour sitting in some diner and eating. He had opened a bag of M&Ms and popped a few inside his mouth before he noticed that he actually didn't like the sweet stuff right now. Obviously his brother's sickness sat heavily on his stomach.

With every new person they interrogated, Dean's hope vanished a little bit more. Everybody that had been affected by Pestilence was dead. Although he tried to not despair, tried to make himself believe that the first victim, for example, could simply be a comatose guy that modern technology was still keeping alive, Dean felt weariness grip his heart tightly.

"Okay, Cas. We are missing something here," he said as they returned to the hotel for a quick shower before Dean planned on visiting his brother. "Those deaths are just so random, I'm not even convinced they are really all connected to Pestilence."

Castiel filled a glass of water and took a few sips before turning towards his friend and answering, "We need to find Pestilence. I can no longer heal your brother nor can I prevent his death."

"I know that, Cas…," Dean sighed, rubbing his hands over his tired eyes. "You thirsty? You need to eat and drink now?"

The Angel shook his head and took another sip before saying almost sheepishly, "At Doris's place… the water helped with the dizziness…" - and with the churning fire inside his stomach too. But he didn't voice that. Castiel did not want Dean to realize just how guilty he felt about many people dying because he was just not able to apprehend Pestilence. At least he thought it was guilt he was experiencing.

"Okay… but as soon as you think you're not gonna be able to hold up any longer, you tell me. Got it? No fainting, or puking blood or stuff like that, okay?"

Castiel nodded stifling a sigh. "You wanted to take a shower before we visit your brother."

"No, Cas. I will visit Sam. You will lie down and sleep again. No objections - you need it."

~*~

Although Sam had been glad for Dean visiting him, it had left him disappointed. They were not one single step nearer towards Pestilence as yesterday. He coughed a few times, tried to sit up a bit more in the hope of being able to breath better but it didn't change anything. They needed to find the Horseman - fast. He had no idea how long he would be of any help, how long until he needed the respirator. With a sigh that became another cough he put on the headphones again and pushed the 'play' button to go through the recording the fifth time today.

Nearly an hour later suddenly Sam's eyes became wide. Did he…? Or was it just…? Could it be? Could it really be? Had they been hoodwinked that badly? Sam pulled out a note pad and pen before he rewound the tape a last time. He had to be sure. He had to be really, really sure.

~*~

Castiel was cold. For the first time in his existence he was freezing. It wasn't particularly cool inside the motel room. And he was covered with a blanket - Dean had made sure of it before he had left for his brother - but still he was nearly shivering. He felt… worn thin, like butter spread on too much bread. The Angel had to smile thinking about last year as Sam had made him read Lord of the Rings among other fiction books so he would hopefully start actually understanding some those references Dean kept throwing at his head. Bilbo had described this feeling quite well - strictly speaking it had been Mr. Tolkien, but Castiel understood the concept of fictional stories. Although he had felt a bit of shame for it at that time, he had actually enjoyed reading those stories. He had been through The little Hobbit in under one hour and afterwards started to read everything written by Tolkien Bobby owned.

Castiel groaned. He felt like butter fresh from the fridge and the bread… actually, thinking about food was not the best idea. He had been constantly nauseated the entire day and the one time Dean had bought a donut and bitten into the pastry sitting next to the Angel, with the stench of sugar and fat filling the car…

He lurched out of the bed towards the bathroom. Right as his stomach finally turned he had reached the toilet just in time for him to vomit into the porcelain bowl. Although he had only drank water his mouth felt vile and the smell coming from… He threw up again, this time even more violently.

~*~

When Dean opened their motel room he was met with weak retching sounds coming from the bathroom. He immediately threw his car keys in the direction of the table and hurried towards his sick friend. Castiel was hunched over the toilet much like Sam had been prior looking exhausted and disgusted in equal parts.

He put a hand on the Angel's back, trying to comfort Castiel and reassure him at the same time, feeling the soft tremble running through the too cool body.

"Dean…," the Angel mumbled before he started dry heaving again.

The hunter rubbed soothing circles on his friend's back, waiting for his stomach to calm down again. "Shhh, it's okay, Cas…"

"Dean, I think now… I can… can't no longer…"

"It's okay, Cas. I've got you." Dean carefully pulled his friend towards himself, let Castiel's back rest against his chest and wrapped his arms around the Angel's torso. "Relax. I'm taking you to bed again and tomorrow we'll find someone to take a look at you, too. Everything will be fine, you'll see."

~*~

"Dean!" Sam's voice sounded agitated from the phone's little speaker. "Dean, I think, we were wrong! We've been searching for the wrong Horseman!"

"Sam, calm down. What are you talking about?"

"Dean, I don't think we're up against Pestilence - at all… could you and Cas come here so we can discuss…"

"Sorry, Sam," Dean interrupted his brother. "Cas isn't feeling so great. He's just…" He turned around, looking at the Angel finally asleep in his brother's bed, looking pale and sick. And way too human. "He's just fallen asleep. You said, you don't think it's Pestilence? Why?"

"Remember all those people dying from various diseases? I listened to the old Lady's -"  
"Doris," Dean interrupted his brother again.  
"…Doris's gossip. Remember what she told you? It just suddenly makes sense, everything makes more sense this way. The… the five deaths Castiel thought were the first ones? I think cancer, HIV and the swine flu were just coincidences. Those people died a non-supernatural caused death. Remember how we wondered because, yeah, there had been more deaths because of the swine flu but not enough? Not nearly enough for a Horseman? Remember how you told me you'd have thought Pestilence would be more like Outbreak or 28 days later? I think it all began with the one case of Shigellosis, long after Castiel had started searching for Pestilence on his own. You see, this would explain why we both didn't feel - and probably are still not feeling - very hungry. And if Castiel too is affected it explains why he's dizzy and exhausted and… you said he's sleeping, right? Angels don't sleep… Make him eat something and you'll see he'll be ready to fight again."

"He just puked his guts out, I doubt he'll be up to stuffing his face pretty soon."

"Then eat something yourself. Dean, trust me on this one. It is not Pestilence. It is Famine."

Dean sighed, rubbing a tired hand over his chin. "Okay… if it's really… Do you know what that means?"

"Yes, Dean. It means no insta-cure for me."

"Crap."

"Exactly."

After a long pause Sam added, "Oh, and Dean. If we are lucky, Cas has been affected before the guy that died of dysentery. Perhaps we've found the first victim."

~*~

Of course it turned out Sam was right. Dean hated his brother for it. Not only because Sam was right again. But because Sam was ill and without Pestilence being the cause for his brother's disease that meant there was no supernatural cure. And without a mundane cure either that meant… No. Dean was not thinking about that one.

Dean and Castiel - who continued to refuse to eat something and therefore was still dizzy enough to stumble and sway way too often for Dean's liking - prepared everything for the ritual. They painted the floor and walls of an old shed with the necessary symbols, drew sigils and devil's traps according to Castiel's instructions and prepared Ruby's knife.

Although Castiel was the better fighter, the Angel had insisted that Dean be the one to carry out the crucial part. The Angel would act as bait so the human would be able to cut Famine and get a few drops of his blood to join the one of the first victim.

Actually, this ritual was fairly easy. With Castiel's blood, Famine could be summoned and with their mixed blood, he would be banished from earth. Easy as pie.

The only thing that gave Dean a headache was Sam. Because his brother insisted on joining them.

Getting the doctors to discharge Sam was easier than Dean would have thought. Though he was still not sure how his brother had managed to finally persuade Dean to let him join them for the ritual. With a duplicate of his brother's patient records in one hand and Sam's stuff in the other, Dean followed him towards the Impala, the entire time ready to step in and help his brother should he so much as falter.

Less than fifteen minutes after they had left the hospital, both Winchesters entered the barn, joining the Angel again who had been busy and completed the preparations. Now they were ready. Now they would summon Famine and kick his ass.

~*~  
Demons. Five or more. Damn. Dean drew his knife. He had to keep them away from Sam. His brother was in no condition to fight. He heard a rustling sound to his left and knew Castiel had unshed his Angel-sword too.

~*~

When Sam spotted the demons he knew they were in a shitload of trouble. He had noticed how exhausted and weak Castiel was, hell, the Angel started swaying as soon as he didn't have a supporting hand on the wall or something. And he himself was slowly choking on the fluids in his lungs. He was still out of breath from the short way he'd had to walk minutes ago. No way Dean  
would be able to fend all five intruders off.

With a grunt Sam came to his feet again. He was here for support after all. He was not needed conscious for the ritual to work, he could fight until lack of the oxygen drowned him in blissful oblivion. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out salt and holy water. He had an exorcism to complete.

~*~

Castiel lurched towards one of the demons that tried to backstab Dean with what looked like a letter opener. Dizziness prevented him from killing the hell spawn; instead his body crashed haphazardly into the other creature and sent them both tumbling to the ground. The world was still spinning while the Angel tried to get to his feet again. The vertigo brought a fresh wave of nausea that made him gag as the demon was already launching a forceful attack aimed towards the Angel's head. Castiel knew he couldn't fight properly like that. He had to change his tactics.

Castiel closed his eyes, his vessel's eyes, and let his angelic senses take over. He could feel the dark presence at his back, the tendrils of dark stretching to his right a moment before the demon's host moved. It was easy for the Angel to block the attack despite his weak knees.

~*~

Dean was fighting against two demons at the same time, knowing that he was no match for them, even with Ruby's knife. Then suddenly Cas was by his side, drawing one of his attackers to himself. Just as the hunter wanted to sigh with relief, he noticed his friend faltering, going down with the attacker on top of him. Damn, now the Angel was out for the count too.

Only a quick drop prevented Dean from having his face remodeled by the metal pipe his adversary was using as a weapon. He had to focus on fighting. Otherwise all three of them would be dead pretty soon.

~*~

Although it was hard to form the words, Sam knew that that wouldn't be the problem. He just was not able to speak loud - and fast - enough. How was he supposed to exorcise all those demons when everything beyond a weak whisper made him erupt in heavy coughs?

With a sudden grin he opened his bag and started to search for the small device.

~*~

One demon down, four more to go. Dean hastily turned around and was met with a fist that must have been made of stone. He still did not understand why those sons of bitches didn't use their demon powers and flung him against one of the walls but instead fought the old-fashioned, human way. But he sure as hell would not complain.

A swift step made him avoid a second assault and left the demon's defense open enough for Dean to attempt an attack of his own.

Sam rattled of the crucial part of the Rituale Romanum as quickly as he could. Whenever he failed to suppress another coughing fit, he paused the recording. None of the Demons noticed him whispering the exorcism into the old Dictaphone's microphone.

A demon had finally managed to overpower Dean as Sam turned up the volume and hoped that the small speaker would be enough.

A metallic and slightly distorted copy of his voice started shouting the Latin words towards the demons just as a second one prepared to slice Dean's throat.

The four remaining attackers started to writhe and cry out with rage as the recorded ritual banished them gradually from their involuntary hosts.

With an exhausted cough, Sam sank down, his back to a wall. Team Free Will: 1, Demons: 0

~*~

Dean slowly came to his feet again. Although slumped down, Sam gave him a weak thumbs-up. His brother was all right. Damn, the kid had saved all of their lives, he deserved a medal. Castiel was still prone but he too started to sit up again. Dean could see a nasty gash right beneath his friend's hairline that was bleeding freely. As soon as Famine was cared for he'd need stitches.

The clicking of high heels echoed through the hall. They had company, anew.

~*~

Sam was gasping for air again. Each breath producing a wheezing sound. He was somehow simply not able to get enough oxygen into his system. He imagined he could hear the liquid inside his lungs bubbling - he knew Famine was here and he should pay attention, but the feeling of drowning on dry ground was damn distracting. There were already dark spots dancing in his vision; he was sure he wouldn't be of further use in this encounter.

~*~

Castiel felt his insides churning more fiercely. An angry growl escaped his midsection as his stomach erupted once more in pain. The Angel staggered and needed to support himself with an outstretched hand on the wall. Without doubt, Famine was here at last.

~*~

Dean noticed the distress his brother and friend were in, still the smooth voice took him by surprise.

"Dean. Nice to finally meet you."

He turned around and spotted a young, beautiful woman. She looked like a model, like some girl directly from America's next Top model: thin, confident, huge eyes, expensive dress hanging from her shoulders. Somehow he had pictured Famine differently.

"I see you are prepared to banish me. Interesting approach..." She nodded towards the sophisticated sigils surrounding a huge pentacle drawn on the floor. "But I'm afraid this won't play out like you've planned."

"Oh, it will!" Castiel growled and flung himself at the woman, trying to buy enough time to give Dean the chance to complete the ritual.

But Famine made a graceful step to the side, not even looking at the Angel who rushed by and missed her by an entire foot. "You really should hear what I have to offer first, Dean."

"We are not bargaining with demons. Been there, done that, won't do it again." Dean answered while gripping his blade tighter.

"Oh, you're sure about that? You know your brother is dying and I could save him."

Dean stopped dead in his tracks. Could Famine really...?

"Ask your Angel friend if you don't believe me."

A quick glance to his right where Castiel was still trying to get to his feet again and he was met with a stoic nod.

"You see, I might have something to offer worth bargaining."

With an angry scowl Dean finally acknowledged the demon had a point. "What do you want?"

"You don't complete this ritual - I cure Sammy's lungs."

"Name's Sam..." The weak protest came from behind.

Dean clenched his teeth. Another deal. Another sacrifice. But this time it wouldn't just be him being the one to suffer but all of humanity. Except...

"So: I erase this circle and let you leave and Sam's cured?"

"No. You not only don't banish me now - you will forget all about this ritual and your Angel friend there won't mention it again or your precious brother drops dead."

"Dean... you can't...," Sam coughed.

"Dean, your brother is right. This isn't just about the two of you. There is -," Castiel pleaded but was interrupted by Dean.

"...a bigger picture, I know. Okay." With a nod towards Famine he made a few steps in her direction and then stopped with his hand outstretched.

The skinny woman just frowned in confusion. "What are you doing?"

"I think we have a deal. And I'm not gonna seal it with a kiss. We'll do it the human way. With an old fashioned handshake."

With a beautiful but smug smile she closed the distance and took Dean's hand. Her grip was much stronger than such a thin girl's should be, hands slightly clammy and cool. "Deal," she said.

~*~

Sam gasped. The liquid in his lungs suddenly gone, his vision clear once more. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He wouldn't die, but at what price?

~*~

Castiel watched in horror as Dean and the Horseman shook hands. He heard Sam sigh deeply, felt his slightly tainted life force once again radiate with strength.

The Angel was about to avert his gaze as he noticed Dean was still holding Famine's hand. The skinny woman frowned at the human, obviously confused by his action - or lack thereof - too. Then suddenly Castiel knew what Dean was about to do. He gave his best, tried to ward off the hunter's thoughts, cloak his intentions from the other supernatural being's senses without Famine noticing. It stained his dwindling grace further but he obviously succeeded because with a swift motion Dean cut through the slim fingers, severing the ring wearing digit without Famine so much as gasping in horror.

Finally the Angel allowed himself to sink down to the floor and succumb to his weakness. Another Horseman was defeated and Sam would live.


End file.
